


Moving On

by silvertrails



Series: Warrior and Minstrel [16]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 06:58:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11686431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silvertrails/pseuds/silvertrails
Summary: Maglor and Daeron leave Imladris behind. This is a sequel to Lost.





	Moving On

**Moving On  
** By CC  
March, 2015 

This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit is made and no harm is intended.

B2MeM Challenge: I always thought it was interesting that both of Beleriand's renowned musicians ended up wandering off into the wilderness, never to be heard from again. I'd love to see some stories about them finding each other, wandering Middle-earth in each other's company, and making sweet sweet music together - whether in a platonic or romantic sense. Any Age can work for this, up to and including modern times and indeed the future.

* * *

It was time to leave the vale forever, Maglor mused as he looked over the ancient dwelling. He had come to Imladris many times, both alone and with Daeron, and they had beheld the slow decay of the last trace of the presence of Elves in Ennorath. Elrond’s house had withstood the passage of time for a while, but eventually nature had claimed what remained of the Last Homely House. 

It was the end of an era, even if they were far into the Fourth Age of the world. The city of Bree was bigger now, and the Shire had evolved into a small village where the last Hobbits still lived. Most of them had left the country and moved into the city, and intermarriage had done the rest. Maglor had not seen a Dwarf in decades, but he knew that some of them still dwelled in the northern mountains.

Maglor stood near the Bruinen, while his horse grazed along with Daeron’s. His friend had forgotten a book in the house, the one with the sketch of them that Elrohir made so long ago. Daeron always carried it around. Maglor closed his eyes, remembering, feeling a trace of Ulmo’s power even after all this time. It reminded him of who he was and of what he had lost when he took the Oath. His father killed by his own passion and fire, his brothers, taken by death one by one, his cousins, and above all his mother whom he might never see again. 

“I am ready.”

Maglor turned around and saw Daeron, standing there, the book hopefully in his backpack. He had recovered from his ordeal at Sauron’s creatures’ hands, but he was far from well. There were other wounds in his mind, so deep that they might take a while to heal. 

_Like mine… We are both still bruised by our choices and feelings…_

“Good,” he said. “We are going to cross the Hithaeglir through a southern pass. There is a city of Men there. Then we can take the road to the Eastern lands.”

Daeron nodded, but Maglor did not fail to notice a trace of anxiety in his eyes. 

“You could stay in Gondor,” Maglor said. “I shall not take long.”

Daeron looked at him, surprise clear in his eyes. “Do you want us to part ways?”

“No, that is not what I mean. I am merely concerned. I must see an old associate there, but there might be dangers on the way. I would not see you hurt again.”

“I can defend myself.”

Maglor sighed. “I know, but---” 

Daeron moved closer. “Stop worrying and teach me,” he said. “Whatever drives you on, whatever makes you able to find your place in every age… teach me how to fight like you fight.”

“There is darkness inside me, Daeron. I value your company, you know it, but I would not bring you down with me.”

“Then let me try to keep you from falling as I have fallen so many times. That is something I can do for you.”

_And you love me, and that is not good for you._

_Eru, I should push you away, but I cannot do it…_

“All right,” Maglor said, adjusting the straps of his own backpack. “I will not mention this again. I will teach you what I know, and so will you.”

Daeron smiled and got on his horse. “I could teach you how to sing…”

Maglor mounted his horse. “You wish, Sinda.”

“I am still considered the best singer of Arda, you arrogant Noldo.”

Maglor had to smile. “I might still leave you in Gondor.”

Daeron rode past him. “You know you would never do that. You like me.”

“And I wish I knew why…”


End file.
